Color My World
by OffMyLeash
Summary: A series of related one-shots into the lives of Hermione and Viktor. From first meeting to...AU-ish.   Edit 4/22/2011...no longer a series of related one-shots, now a full story!
1. Meeting

**A/n: Just a little something I decided to write. Chapters will vary in length. Again, AU-ish.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Only thing I hope to get out of this story is happy readers.**

The air outside was pleasing; the cool breeze dancing over her skin. The grass gently swaying from side to side, as ventilation combed through its healthy vegetation; drawing forth the inhabitants that dwelled within its folds.

Trees, branches overstuffed with fresh, new life, danced as their leaves pulsed from the wind. Chipmunks scurried back and forth along the tree's trunk, ascending upward until they disappeared behind the wall of foliage; birds flew out from behind the curtain, only to return moments later, food in their beaks—perhaps to feed their young, diving back in.

And the sky, it helped set the scene even more.

Deep blues, boarding on purple, eye catching reds, yellows, and oranges filled the sky; each color vivid and utterly rich in its hue. Clouds, scattered amongst the atmosphere, only served to enhance the sight even more—the balls of fluff taking in the lights, soaking in them like steak cooked in red wine.

Hermione released a soothing breath as she sat on the fountain's edge, staring out at the area before her. Savoring the reprieve and tranquility that nature bought her.

Out of all the manors her parents owned, she liked this one—their summer home—the most. Narrowing it down, she loved the area around it; lush pastures, endless starry skies, and nearby lakes.

It all felt so…unconquered and untamable to her. It's why she loved it.

As with every summer, her parents annual Summer Ball was a part of it; something that had been held ever since she could remember. Even out in the gardens, she could hear the commotion drifting from the manor, more specifically the ballroom.

Only the top of the social elite were ever invited. They were those who held power and influence, wealth and prestige, strong belief in blood purity, and, above all else, those who supported the Dark Lord and his quest to create a world without muggles, treacherous blood traitors, and filthy mudbloods.

Wiping out the cancerous impure—for that is what they were, nothing more than a vile disease that contaminated everything they touched—leaving those only of pureblood.

The young pureblood went back to gazing out at the land her family owned; so at peace that she could easily have achieved nirvana. However, the hurried crunching of grass coming in her direction interrupted the ascension.

Looking over her shoulder, she saw a young man, a little older than herself, enter the area.

He was tall, with a muscular build, based how his attire hugged the upper portion of his body; not in a way that was too tight or small, but simply in a way that complimented his arms and torso. His black hair was cut low, the buzz cut helping bring out his strong facial features, and the small stubble encompassing his chin added to the effect.

All in all, Hermione had to admit he was quite handsome; his large curved nose and thick, black eyebrows doing nothing to take away from his features. Not even the frown he wore took away from his appearance.

She said nothing, simply watching as he let out a huff and began walking around the fountain. He jumped a bit when he stumbled upon her; proof that he wasn't expecting to run into anyone. It took a few moments, but he eventually regained his bearings.

"Hello Miss Lestrange," he greeted, bowing as all pureblood men had been taught. "I vos not thinking someone vould be out here," Came his confession.

Hermione gave a bow of her head in response. "It's quite alright," she assured him. "Beauty like this is to be shared," Tilting her head in the direction of the scenery before them.

"And please, call me Hermione," the young witch insisted. All her life she had been greeted formally, except when around family, but, she had never enjoyed such stiff, insipid greetings.

He nodded. An awkward silence existed between them. The brunette watched as the dark haired male shifted from foot to foot; he was nervous, that much was obvious, but as to _**why**_, she truly could not say.

"Would you like to sit down?" she offered, patting the space next to her on the fountain's edge. She noticed his hesitation, so she added, "The view from here is quite marvelous Master…" trailing as she did not know his name, having never seen him before, though she felt as she had seen his face before.

"Krum, Viktor Krum," he answered.

So that's why his face looked familiar, she thought. He was the Seeker for the Bulgarian National Quidditch team; she'd seen his picture in the Daily Prophet a few times, but never gave it much thought.

She enjoyed watching Quidditch, but anything beyond that, such as the mechanics of the game, and her interest was lost.

When he still made no move to sit, the young Lestrange decided not to push further. "Well, my offer is still open if you change your mind," she said, her voice light, soothing, before going back to staring out at the horizon.

To say that Viktor was surprised was not the appropriate term; the young Bulgarian was completely taken aback by this interaction. He looked at her in awe from his position.

Normally, when he introduced himself—though in many cases it was unneeded, as people, females especially, knew who he was—he would be flocked upon, the moment he'd finish sentence. Girls would fawn over him, giggling, trailing after him, and doing anything they could to warrant his attention.

Boys would simply hassle him for his autograph and gave their thoughts about Quidditch matches and formations.

Those two courses of action _**always**_ happened. Yet, she was not upon him like the girls he constantly ran into; in fact, she seemed completely uninterested in the fame he held.

Then again, she was the daughter of the Lestranges; one of the most prominent pureblooded families in the world. Not to mention the most loyal and faithful supporters of the Dark Lord. She had probably met people far more famous than himself no doubt.

Maybe because of her reaction to him, or rather lack of, the tall male slowly made his way over to her. Adjusting his shoulder cloak, he took a seat, putting half a foot's distance between them. Of which, Hermione did not mind, nor did she take offense to.

"…You are right," Viktor admitted after another bout of silence. "View is very beautiful," he clarified, when Hermione turned to glance at him, eyebrow arched in silence inquiry.

The teenage witch nodded in agreement. "And peaceful," she added, focusing her brown eyes back out onto the land.

Lightening bugs had come out and now danced within the air, creating a thousand points of light.

Viktor wholeheartedly agreed with that; being outside was exponentially better than being inside because it granted him deliverance from the languishing females inside.

"Relaxing," he commented simply.

"I hope you do not mind me asking this," Hermione began, her curious nature taking over. "But, I couldn't help notice that when you entered the garden earlier you looked…well…rather grumpy," Cheeks coloring slightly in embarrassment.

The athlete noticed, and found that she looked extremely cute with a small blush staining her cheeks.

"I was merely wondering if something was bothering you?" she inquired. "Are you not enjoying the ball?"

"No, am enjoying ball very much," he stated quickly and sincerely, hearing the worry in her voice when she posed the question. He then frowned, deeply. "Is the girls," came the confession. "They all vant my attention, vill not leave me in peace."

Hermione understood what he was saying all too well.

Viktor then went on to say, "They are not…" he paused and then turned to look at her. "Vot is English vord for people vho's vants are not pure?"

"Genuine," Hermione supplied.

He nodded sharply. "Yes, they are not gen-you-vine," he declared, referring to not just the girls at the ball, but all the girls and women had had met over the years.

A chuckle escaped the teenage Lestrange, earning Viktor's dark eyes upon her once again. He must have held a curious expression on her face because she responded, "Well, I can't say I do not know that feeling," she admitted.

"Boys chase after me all the time, men also, though I suspect it is simply because of my surname," she pointed out.

Every male that she had ever met desired her simply because of her maturing looks and surname. They didn't care about her interests, or intellect, they simply cared about bragging rights; the chance to be able to say that they had married the Lestranges daughter and related to such a powerful wizarding family.

Tonight alone, she had to deal with Adrian Pucey, Marcus Flint, Blaise Zabini, Argyle Yaxley, Theodore Nott, and a few others she'd rather not name. Each boy wanting a dance, pining for her like she was territory to claim. The boy's parents speaking with hers and trying to convince her parents of a union between their houses.

Thankfully, her parents had not given in—even though she was three years from being of age, and was at the point for suitors to be chosen; they were at least, giving her some say in who she wanted to marry.

Hermione then sighed, and Viktor noticed a look of sadness in her eyes. "It…is very hard to make friends" she confided in him. "Genuine friends I mean," she clarified.

The Bulgarian felt a pain in his chest at hearing the dejectedness in her voice. They had only just met one another and, while he didn't know much about her, he found himself wanting to get to know her; he also felt the desire for her to get to know him as well.

Viktor had never felt such an urge before, especially when came to a girl period—minus the fact that she was three years his junior. Still, while he didn't know where it had come from, he liked the feeling; causing his mouth to curve upward in a small smile.

"Hermy-own-ninny," he said, feeling utterly embarrassed at how he butchered her name. Silently, he vowed to learn how to properly pronounce her name. "Vould you like to be friends vith me?"

The shorter of the two was speechless. Her brown eyes staring into his darker ones, searching to make sure what he said was sincere; Viktor proudly held her gaze.

After a few moments, her eyes glazed over with tears. "Yes Viktor," she agreed voice raw with emotion. "I would like that very much," she added with a smile going along with her profession, showing off her healthy teeth.

The stubble bearded young man, for the first time since arriving at the ball, gave a bona fide smile.

Viktor then stood from his seat, placing himself before Hermione. "Then, first act as friend," he began before bowing to her. "Hermy-own-ninny Lestrange, vill you honor me vith dance?" came the request, as he straightened himself and held out his hand for her.

The young witch couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips; it was not mocking. It was light and boisterous, and silently, the young wizard was pleased with himself that her mood had already begun to improve.

She placed her smooth hand into his larger one, feeling the calluses brush over her skin as he encompassed her hand with his own. "I'd be delighted," came her response, as she allowed him to pull her to her feet.

They spent the remainder of their evening dancing with one another; swaying to music that only they could hear.

And as they did, they also talked.

Both spoke of things that they never thought they'd be able to share with another person. Interests, hobbies, dreams…all these areas were touched upon; topics that others would have found boring.

But to them, being able to share their soul with another person—someone that was truly heartfelt, and was interested in them as a person, rather than a means to an end—felt absolutely liberating.

Like magic in its purest form.

"Hermione!"

The witch was broken out of the moment by hearing her name being called. She stopped her movements, which caused Viktor to stop as well; they remained in their position though.

"Hermione," the voice called out again, sounding closer.

The teen in question then turned to look up at her friend. "My mother…" she said, and Viktor nodded. "We…probably shouldn't be caught like this," Referring to their dancing position.

It wasn't distasteful by any means. However, she had been out here…_**alone**_…with a _**man**_…completely un-chaperoned. Not that they would have done anything.

The taller of the two understood; he had been raised the same way after all. With a bit of reluctance, he released her from his grasp; taking a few steps back for good measure.

And, not a moment too soon.

"There you are," Bellatrix stated, entering into the garden, and making her way towards her child. "Our guests are leaving and your father and I have…" The dark witch's words died on her lips, as she noticed that her daughter was not alone.

"Madam Lestrange," Viktor greeted the matriarch of the house with a bow.

The Dark Lord's second said nothing. She merely stared at him, as if he were a foreign object. Her dark eyes then began shifting between him and her daughter.

"It was nice meeting you Viktor," the brunette spoke up, stepping in before her mother's mind caught up with her. "I hope you enjoyed the ball?"

"Very much," he answered. "I must be off now. My Papa is probably looking for me as vell," catching on to what his friend was doing.

Then, in an extremely bold move, he approached Hermione, with Bellatrix mere inches from the girl.

He took her hand and brought it to his lips, placing a soft kiss to the back of her hand. "Vill vite," he told her. "Promise."

Releasing her hand, he bowed once more, before turning and exiting the garden.

Hermione's cheeks were stained red; his gesture caught her completely by surprise. Her heart raced in her chest. She had no idea why she felt this way, but she wasn't complaining, planning on savoring this new feeling as long as she could.

Fate however, had its over agenda.

"You…you…YOU WERE OUT HERE, THE ENTIRE NIGHT, WITH A _**MAN**_ WITHOUT A CHAPERONE?" Bellatrix shrieked at her daughter, as her mind finally decided to work again.

The younger Lestrange sighed; she knew she had some serious explaining to do. A smile graced her lips as she thought of her newly formed friendship.

It was worth it.


	2. Aftermath

**A/n 1: I was convinced by a review and a friend to make this into a story. Still following the main goal of Hermione and Viktor, don't worry, just means I'll being deviling a little deeper into this world and introducing more characters, both cannon and OC. (See A/n 2 at end of chapter).**

**Disclaimer 1: I own everything! XD (See Disclaimer 2 at end of chapter).**

"…and there she was out in the gardens with…with a _**man**_," Bellatrix informed, recounting her encounter with her daughter earlier in the evening.

"You don't honestly think little Hermione would have done something do you?" came the curious inquiry, followed with an arched eyebrow.

The dark witch made a face. "That's not the point Cissy!" the elder sister cried, as she angrily bit into the cake that she had the elf serve them.

The ball had ended roughly an hour ago. An emergency had come up at the Ministry that needed their husband's attention; they promised to return as soon as they could.

Leaving the sisters to bask in the company of each other, who were currently residing in the den of Lestrange Manor.

"And then the boy had the nerve to kiss her hand!" Bellatrix added in a huff.

Narcissa casually sipped her tea, also brought by the elf. Silently, she laughed to herself at her elder sister's rant. To others, her sister's facial expression looked murderous, but the bleach blonde knew that the older girl was simply being concerned.

As odd as that word was when applied to the Dark Lord's second.

An amused snicker was heard from the entranceway; causing the two siblings to crane their necks to see the source of the sound.

"I highly doubt the boy would have done anything," commented a woman that looked exactly like Bellatrix, with the exception of her brunette locks, softer features, and light brown eyes.

She then walked over and took a seat next to Narcissa on the dark leather couch; grabbing a cup of tea and cake for herself. "Things would have ended badly for him had he did," came the addition as she bit into her snack.

"That's _**NOT**_ the point Dromeda!" The eldest amongst them repeated once more, slamming her fist down on the coffee table.

"She should not have been out there with a _**boy,**_" hissing that particular word, adding emphasis. "…without a chaperone," the death eater stated.

"Hmm…" the middle sibling mused. "I seem to recall _**you**_," pointing at the heated mother. "Hanging out with boys un-chaperoned around her age," she pointed out with a smirk.

The youngest among them giggled. "Bella always did have a knack for sneaking away from the elves," she teased, whilst Bellatrix simply stared at Andromeda.

"That's different! I knew how boys were!" The Lestrange matriarch defended the actions made during her younger years. "I knew what they were about and how to handle them," she said.

"Hermione is different, she's innocent and fragile," she remarked. "She doesn't know how boys are and he could have easily taken advantage of her."

Neither of her two sisters could really counter her sentence. While Andromeda didn't completely believe that her niece was as innocent and fragile as Bellatrix was making her out to be, Hermione was—to some extent—indeed those things.

Hermione wasn't so much as fragile, per say, as she was pampered. Not to be unexpected, as she was a pureblooded lady after all, and was born into one of the most wealthy and influential families to boot. She had never been faced with the harsh realities of life, explicitly.

Books could tell and introduce you to all manner of things, but it was an entirely different matter all together to witness those things first hand. As to her innocence, Hermione was still very much pure.

And because of that, Narcissa and Andromeda understood why their big sister was reacting the way she was.

"Well, Hermione is at that age where boys can drive one mad sexually," Cissy expressed, earning nods from both her sisters. They had all been there before.

It was like a change that happened overnight. One day, you're uninterested in boys and think they're gross. Then, puberty hits and once that's settled in, you become interested in them and get heated every time they glance at you, especially if it was a boy you liked.

"And let's not forget emotionally," Dromeda mentioned, referring to how both men and boys could make a woman feel. They could make you feel incredibly loved or they could break your heart into billions of pieces.

Bella nodded sharply. "Exactly," she agreed, placing her now empty cup on the serving tray that a house elf held carefully. Knowing what the punishment should be if they dared to drop it.

"Who was the boy anyway?" the Malfoy inquired after a paused. She didn't recall her sister giving them a name.

"That young Seeker for the Bulgarians," she answered, having momentarily forgotten the teen's name, simply referring to him as the 'boy'.

"Viktor," the Wilder supplied immediately, as she adjusted herself sitting up a little straighter on the couch. "Vladimir and Anna Krum's son," she added.

Beckoning the elf, the middle sibling grabbed herself another, fresher, cup of tea. "Arsen is a good friend of Vladimir's," she explained. "And I've met the couple a few times myself and I don't think either of them has raised their son to be a womanizer."

Bellatrix snorted, chewing on another piece of cake. "The boy is a Quidditch star," she stated. "Girls practically throw themselves at him, and I'm sure the boy has taken to bed quite a few of them."

"I will not tolerate for anyone, boy or man, to play with my daughter's heart and emotions," came the declaration, the underlying threat easily visible and understood.

A few moments of silence passed between them.

"So, where's Hermione now?" Andromeda inquired, as Narcissa leaded against her.

"Her room," Bellatrix answered. "Why?" she demanded to know looking curiously at her sister. Andy was up to something, she could sense it.

"No reason," the middle sister answered with a smirk. The tone in her voice caused the youngest sibling to giggle, while causing the eldest to become extremely cautious, body tensing.

"Just want to talk to my niece," she drew out. "…And find out what _**really**_ went on in the garden," Her voice taking on a highly suggestive quality to it.

"…." For a few seconds, the Lestrange was left speechless, her younger sisters laughing in outright amusement.

Not many things could leave the fearsome Bellatrix Lestrange in complete silence.

Suddenly, the dark witch jumped up from her seat; startling the poor house elf, causing him to drop the tray, breaking the dish set along with it; causing the elf to start crying and inflicting pain upon itself as punishment.

Fortunately for the servant, Bellatrix's mind was occupied at the moment…so punishment from his mistress would be delivered later.

"Hermione Druella Lestrange!" the mother yelled, as she marched out of the den and headed towards her daughter's room.

The blue eyed woman was the first to calm herself of her laughing fit. She then hit her sister, in mock chiding. "Andromeda Lucretia, why must you tease her so?" she questioned, referring to how Andy always seemed to work their sister up in her protectiveness….which was high already.

The brunette snickered. "Because Narcissa Calista, it's fun," was her answer.

**(Switch)**

"…_and with him on the team, Bulgaria has a very good chance of winning the Quidditch World Cup this year,"_ Vladimir explained to his wife, speaking animatedly in their native language.

Anna nodded in response. While she had been listening to her husband, she was more focused on their son. Viktor hadn't said a word since they left Lestrange manor.

He spent half the carriage ride, though flight was more appropriate, to their castle, starting out the window.

"_Viktor,"_ she called, gaining her son's attention. _"What is wrong?"_ came the question. _"You have been quiet," _motherly concern filling her tone.

"_Nothing is wrong Mama,"_ the young Krum assured.

The Krum head spoke up. _"Your mama is right son, you have been quiet,"_ he reiterated. _"Is something on your mind?"_

Viktor gave a quick nod. _"I am just thinking of this evening,"_ he informed them. He wasn't quite ready to tell them of his encounter with Hermione, their hosts' daughter of all people, so soon.

Vladimir leaned back in his seat. _"It was a very enjoyable event,"_ he commented. _"I am honored that the Lestranges invited us to attend,"_ Seeing as how he hadn't been in a position of political power all that long—less than half a year.

"_Indeed,"_ his wife agreed. _"Did you enjoy yourself Viktor?"_ Anna inquired of her son.

"_Yes, though not as much as I wanted to,"_ the young Seeker admitted. _"Girls and fans alike harassed me a majority of the night."_

"_You are a famous and talented Quidditch player son,"_ his papa pointed out. _"That is what they do,"_ Chuckling a bit, as he recalled his own Quidditch years.

"_Is that why you disappeared?"_ Madam Krum asked. _"I looked around but I did not see you."_

Again, Viktor nodded. A quick glance out the window of the carriage showed the familiar grounds of his homeland; soon, they would be arriving home.

"_Was being suffocated, so I went outside, to the garden, to clear my head,"_ Viktor told her. Shuddering internally, as he remembered how one girl in particular—Punsy, Panny….he didn't remember her name—kept trying to glue herself to him.

"_There garden did look lovely,"_ the dark haired mother said. _"I wish I had a chance to tour it, but I ended up getting caught up."_

The young man took a deep breath to help his nerves. _"I made a friend_," he informed his parents.

"_That is good Viktor,"_ his parents praised. "_Who are they?"_ they asked curiously.

The young Bulgarian lowered his head. _"I do not wish to tell their name just yet,"_ he said. _"But…"_ already, he could feel his cheeks start to redden. "_It's a girl."_

"_Ohhh…"_ Vladimir said, a smirk now worn on his face. He then leaned forward, staring at his son. _"Now your silence makes sense,"_ he remarked.

A quick hit on his shoulder from his wife, stopped his comments—and possibly teasing—from the Krum head, before the man even got started.

"_That is wonderful Viktor,"_ Anna praised, causing her son to redden even more in the face.

The Seeker insisted, repeating his earlier statement of,_ "She is just a friend."_

"_Of course,"_ his mama spoke before his papa. _"Well, tell us about her?"_ she asked, truly interested.

And Viktor, for all his shyness, did so without hesitation.

As he told his parents about her—her hobbies and interests, her shining personality—both saw how their son lit up while talking about her. The young man radiated pure affection; quite a feat for someone he had met tonight.

The way he was describing her to them, and speaking so passionately about her, one would think they had known each other since infancy.

By the time they arrived at Krum castle, Viktor was finishing up telling his parents about his new friend.

"_Well, she sounds like a very good friend,"_ Anna commented, as their carriage landed, moving along the ground a little bit before coming to a stop.

Vladimir was the first to open and exit the carriage. He then held out a hand for his wife; she graciously accepted. _"Genuine too,"_ she added, before being helped out of the coach.

Viktor stepped out last.

"_Better to have one true friend out of a million, than a million and no real one,"_ his papa said, sagely, as he and his wife began walking towards their home, Viktor trailing behind.

The athlete had to agree with his parents. Hermione was a true, genuine friend, possibly the only one he would have, out of all his fans and admirers; a sad but true statement.

But Viktor didn't mind. With Hermione as his friend, he'd deal with every phony in the world wanting to talk to him, be close to him, and be his "friend"; so long as at the end of the day, he got to talk to her—that single real one.

**A/n 2: Yes, Andromeda is in this story and she didn't marry a mudblood, so she's still on the family tapestry, and is married to pureblood OC Arsen Wilder (I was serious when I said AU-ish). But I just wanted to put that out there to avoid confusion.**

**Disclaimer 2: Sorry, got a little carried away. I meant, I own NOTHING EXCEPT my own OCs. Which so far are Arsen Wilder and Vladimir and Anna Krum (not the Krum surname, just the first).**


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